


lemon to my ice

by dongtian (seclusion)



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29212587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seclusion/pseuds/dongtian
Summary: It's a not a date,Guanshan says.Ever the genius, ever the expert on romance, his self-designated relationship counselor Yan replies,Of course it is.
Relationships: He Tian/Mo Guanshan (19 Days)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 126





	lemon to my ice

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to [honey to my glass](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28890954) but can be read as a standalone. This also goes out to the one person who bookmarked it mentioning Yan... thank you, or else I wouldn't have written this. Nosy girls are wonderful.

Guanshan hates to admit it, but he and that Zhang Yan girl might actually be f… fuh…  _ friends. _ Inconceivable, yeah. He’s endured enough incredulous looks from Zhengxi and suggestive ones from Yi to last a year already; each time Yan bounds over to him with whatever bullshit she’s picked up from the gossip mill, Yi winks and Zhengxi stares. 

Tian, though. He doesn’t seem bothered at all by their unlikely friendship, which isn’t to say Guanshan  _ minds _ or anything, because how weird would that be, but usually he acts a little more possessive. Guanshan also hates to admit that. 

_ Why don’t you stop pretending you don’t know my name, _ Yan had said, a knowing, fully-offensive smirk on her face.  _ I saw you spell my name perfectly on last week’s group assignment.  _

_ Fuck you, _ Guanshan had shot back, because that’s his basic response to everything he doesn’t know how to respond to. And it was on. 

  
  
  


“So,” Yan drawls, lazily fanning herself with a paper fan. The classroom they’re in has all the windows open in an effort to improve air flow; the air conditioning finally broke, dropping the school into the middle of a heat wave. “You’re going on a date.”

Several of the boys in the hallway have their shirts off, teachers too tired to call them out. Guanshan’s secretly grateful for it though, even as he suffers through the humid air. Now he can blame whatever odd things his body has been doing lately on the heat, like elevated heart rate and blood rushing to his face. 

He’s almost sure that he read somewhere (yes, he reads! A crazy thought) that the human heart beats faster when the body’s working harder, and it probably makes sense that sweating more is making his body work more, so the heat explains it all. 

Also, puberty. Wild times. 

“I’m not going on a date,” he responds in the most level way he can. Guanshan actually wants to throw something. A date? A Date? He doesn’t go on dates, not with girls, not with boys, especially not with Tian. This is unlikelier than his and Yan’s friendship, to say the least. 

“It’s a date,” Yan reiterates, tossing the fan away and picking up Guanshan’s homework instead. “You’re going on a  _ dinner date. _ He asked you, this was planned, it’s only the two of you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Guanshan scoffs. Even as doubt begins to rise up, he deflects her point. “We eat together all the time. Alone, too. I’ve had to make dinner at his place multiple times.”

The look on Yan’s face tells him that he’s just dug himself into a bigger hole. Pure, unadulterated joy. He immediately busies himself with making his own paper fan, folding back the edges in an accordion pattern. It sags everywhere he touches, the sweat from his fingertips dampening the paper. 

_ “Guanshan,” _ Yan says, and he’s in deep, deep shit. 

  
  
  


In the swallow of evening, Guanshan waits sullenly at the bus stop, clutching his phone in his pocket. He showered before he left — he hates the feelings of stickiness, that’s why — and the cooler air allows him to draw longer breaths. Tian still isn’t here yet, so he moves to sit down on a bench; then moves away to let an old man take his spot. 

Hangzhou is a city of life. The duller colors of the daytime are suddenly boldly lit at night, and the people on the streets are no less dynamic. It’s been a while since Guanshan could relax and take in the scene; he tilts his head up, letting the sound of passerby fill his ears. It’ll always hold a certain type of magic, he thinks. 

“Guanshan!” Tian comes up behind him, and Guanshan doesn’t even startle anymore. To his horror, he’s actually gotten used to it. “Have you been waiting long?”

“No,” he replies, not because it’s what he’s supposed to say but because it’s the truth. Tian smiles (evilly) and grabs his hand — not even his arm, his fucking  _ hand _ — and yeah, it’s the puberty and thirty-six degree weather right now because Guanshan doesn’t even feel the urge to fight back. His brain says to do it, but his body’s checked out. 

They weave through the bustling streets, ducking between fabric shops and open convenience stores. The night rises to cover twilight, and soon Guanshan finds himself going along with Tian’s whims, dipping into random places and poring over merchandise they have no intention of purchasing. A sports magazine, exotic wafer candy flavours, bottled caramel coffee, real fans; Tian inspects every one like he’s checking for a hidden code, and Guanshan eyes the price tags warily. 

Finishing another round on a street, they pop out under a streetlight, a breeze carrying the aroma of fried chicken. 

“Why’d you make me come here?” Guanshan asks abruptly, then kicks himself the next second. For once, he’s enjoying himself — the front he has to put up doesn’t need as many layers, and doesn’t take as much energy to hold in place. Now he’s gone and —

“I wanted to see you,” Tian says, like it’s obvious. 

“But,” Guanshan starts stupidly, then continues stupidly, “you see me in school.”

Tian swings an arm over his shoulders and herds him towards another street, following the smell of fresh food. “I wanted some extra time just with you, Guanshan.”

  
  
  


(“What makes it different,” Yan had said, enunciating each word, “is that you’re  _ alone _ with him. There is no one else there by design. You are spending planned time with him and only him.”

Guanshan, again pushed to the brink of desperation: “He’s a  _ friend!  _ Friends spend time with each other!”

“Well, I can’t force someone to see sense,” Yan sighed. “Keep telling yourself that, maybe you’ll actually fool yourself into thinking it’s true.”)

  
  
  


The chicken is hot and perfect and juicy on his tongue, and though it’s nothing but easy for someone like Tian to spend money on streetside food, Guanshan won’t deny liking free things. Tian creepily watches him eat with that evil smile, and Guanshan tries to ignore him the best he can. It’s good stuff, this free chicken, after having worked up an appetite from running around the city for the past hour; now, he’s full and in an even better mood, believe it or not. 

“Guanshan,” hums Tian, as they’re wandering back, “did you have fun?”

It must be the free chicken. It must be that, because Guanshan trips and says, “It wasn’t that bad.” Which is as good as a confession of having a good time, and Tian knows as well as he does. 

“Oh, I’m just delighted to hear that,” Tian says, the teasing beginning to slip into his tone. “How about repaying me, then? Hm?”

Seeing him immediately stiffen, Tian laughs and claps him on the shoulder. “Not with money! I won’t even make you cook for me, that’s how nice I’m being. The only thing I want is… a kiss, how’s that?”

Guanshan, shocked into silence, can only shake his head. Yan is going to be insufferable about this, he thinks, absolutely unbearable. He won’t tell her. Never. Tian takes advantage of his momentary hesitation to press his lips to his cheek — it’s fast, and he pulls back so quickly like he was never there. 

It isn’t the first time Tian’s done something like that, but as Guanshan watches him walk away with that confident stride of his, there’s a blush that can’t quite be attributed to puberty or heat on his face. 

  
  


“I’m right!” Yan crows. 

“Fuck you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am on [twitter](https://twitter.com/revivalblues) if you would like to yell tianshan at me, but fair warning I talk about lots of other things & not spoiler free.


End file.
